Dead Man's Rock Part 32

As this broke upon me there swept over me an awful dread lest he should see my face and guess the truth. How could I tell him?

Poor Tom! Poor Tom!

I turned my eyes upon Claire again. Yes, she was superb: beyond all challenge glorious. And all the more I felt as one who has betrayed his friend and is angry with fate for sealing such betrayal beyond revoke.

Whether Claire misinterpreted my look of utter stupefaction or not, I do not know; but as she turned and recognised Valentine there was a tremor in her voice which the audience mistook for art, though I knew it to be but too real. I tried to smile and to applaud, but neither eyes nor hand would obey my will; and so even Claire's acting became a reproach and an appeal to me, pleading forgiveness to which my soul cried a.s.sent though my voice denied it. Minute after minute I sat beneath an agonising spell I could not hope to break.

"Congratulate me, Jasper. What do you think of her?"

It was Tom's voice beside me. Congratulate him! I felt the meanest among men.

"She is--glorious," I stammered.

"I knew you would say so. Unbeliever, did ever man see such eyes?

Confess now, what are Claire's beside them?"

"Claire's--are--much the same."

"Why, man, Claire's were deep grey but a day or two ago, and Clarissa's are the brownest of brown; but of course you cannot see from here."

Alas! I knew too surely the colour of Claire's eyes, so like brown in the blaze of the foot-lights. And her height--Tom had only seen her walk in tragic buskin. How fatally easy had the mistake been!

"Tom, your success is certain now."

"Yes, thanks to her. They were going to d.a.m.n the play before she entered. I could see it. Did you see, Jasper? She looked this way for a moment. Do you think she meant to encourage me? By the way, have you caught sight of Claire yet?"

Oh, Tom, Tom, let me spare you for this night! My heart throbbed and something in my throat seemed choking me as I muttered, "Yes."

"Then do not stay congratulating me, but fly. Success spoils the lover. Ah, Jasper, if only Clarissa had summoned me! Hasten: I will keep my eye upon you and smile approval on your taste. Where is she?"

Again something seemed to catch me by the throat; I was struggling to answer when I heard a voice behind me say, "For you, sir," and a note was thrust into my hand. With beating heart I opened it, expecting to see Claire's handwriting. But the note was not from her. It was scribbled hastily with pencil in a bold hand, and ran thus:--

"An old friend wishes to see you. Come, if you have time.

Box No. 7."

At first I thought the message must have reached me by mistake, but it was very plainly directed to "J. Trenoweth, Esq." I looked around for the messenger but found him gone, and fell to scanning the boxes once more.

As before, they were filled with strangers; and, as before, the black and yellow fan was waving slowly to and fro, as though the hand that wielded it was no hand at all, but rather some untiring machine.

Still the owner remained invisible. I hesitated, reflected a moment, and decided that even a fool's errand was better than enduring the agony of Tom's rapture. I rose.

"I will be back again directly," I said, and then left him.

Still pondering on the meaning of this message, I made my way down the pa.s.sages until I came to the doors of the boxes, and stopped opposite that labelled "No. 7." As I did so, it struck me that this, from its position, must be the one which contained the black and yellow fan. By this time thoroughly curious, I knocked.

"Come in," said a low voice which I seemed to remember.

I entered and found myself face to face with the yellow woman--the mistress of the gambling-h.e.l.l.

She was seated there alone, slightly retired from the view of the house and in the shadow; but her arm, as it rested on the cushion, still swayed the black and yellow fan, and her diamonds sparkled l.u.s.trously as ever in the glare that beat into the box. Her dress, as if to emphasise the hideousness of her skin and form a staring contrast with her wrinkled face and white hair, was of black and yellow, in which she seemed some grisly corpse masquerading as youth.

Struck dumb by this apparition, I took the seat into which she motioned me, while her wonderful eyes regarded my face with stony impa.s.siveness. I could hear the hoa.r.s.e murmurs of the house and feel the stifling heat as it swept upwards from the pit. The strange woman did not stir except to keep up the ceaseless motion of her wrist.

For a full five minutes, as it seemed to me, we sat there silently regarding each other. Then at last she spoke, and the soft voice was as musically sympathetic as ever.

"You seem astonished to see me, Mr. Trenoweth, and yet I have been looking for you for a long time."

I bowed.

"I have been expecting you to give me a chance of redeeming my defeat."

"I am sorry," stammered I, not fully recovered from my surprise, "but that is not likely."

"No? From my point of view it was extremely likely. But somehow I had a suspicion that you would be different from the rest.

Perhaps it was because I had set my heart upon your coming."

"I hope," said I, "that the money--"

She smiled and waved her hand slightly.

"Do not trouble about that. Had I chosen, I could have gone on losing to you until this moment. No, perhaps it was simply because you were least likely to do so, that I wished you to come back as all other young men would come back. I hope you reached home safely with what you won; but I need not ask that."

"Indeed you need. I was attacked as I left the room, and but for a lucky accident, should now be dead."

"Ah," she said placidly; "you suspect me. Don't say 'no,' for I can see you do. Nevertheless you are entirely wrong.

Why, Mr. Trenoweth, had I chosen, do you think I could not have had you robbed before you had gone three paces from the house?"

This was said with such composure, and her eyes were so absolutely void of emotion, that I could but sit and gasp. Once more I recalled the moment when, as I fled down the dark pa.s.sage, I had seen her sitting motionless and calm in the light of her countless candles.

"But do you think I sent for you to tell you that?" she continued.

"I sent for you because you interested me, and because I want a talk with you. Hush! the curtain is rising for the second act. Let us resume when it has finished; you will not deny me that favour at least."

I bowed again, and was silent as the curtain rose--and once more Claire's superb voice thrilled the house. Surely man was seldom more strangely placed than was I, between the speech of my love and the eyes of this extraordinary woman. As I sat in the shadow and listened, I felt those blazing fires burning into my very soul; yet whenever I looked up and met them, their icy glitter baffled all interpretation. Still as I sat there, the voice of Claire came to me as though beseeching and praying for my judgment, and rising with the blaze of light and heated atmosphere of the house, swept into the box until I could bear the oppression no longer. She must have looked for me, and seeing my place empty, have guessed that I condemned her.

Mad with the thought, I rose to my feet and stood for a minute full in the light of the theatre. It may not have been even a minute, but she saw me, and once more, as our gaze met, faltered for an instant.

Then the voice rang out clear and true again, and I knew that all was well between us. Yet in her look there was something which I could not well interpret.

As I sank back in my seat, I met the eyes of my companion still impenetrably regarding me. But as the curtain fell she said quietly--

"So you know Clarissa Lambert?"

I stammered an affirmative.

"Well? You admire her acting?"

"I never saw it until to-night."

"That is strange; and yet you know her?"

I nodded.